Keepers in the Great Depression
by abrocks1234
Summary: This is what the Kingdom Keeper's lives would be like in the Great Depression. Yes, there is still crossing over and OTs. I don't really have a good summary for this...yeah. Includes mean vocabulary we wouldn't use now, but they used back then. I would never actually use words like that. Just sayin'. The picture is mess up. It's supposed to say Great Depression. Y'all get de idea
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, I am doing another story. Yes, all characters will be in it, even though not all of them are in the first chapter. Yes, even the OTs. Yes, I got this because we are learning about the Great Depression in History Class. Yes, there will be hurtful words like Negro. No, I am not racist and I don not believe that is the proper thing to call them. Yes, I am just using the launguage they used in the olden days. Yes, Abby is awesome.**

**Now that we have all the answers out of the way...WE GO!**

* * *

**Philby POV**

I didn't lift my head until it was my turn in line. I took the bread out of the lady's hands. "Thank you, miss," I muttered.

"You're welcome."

I paused. The people from the soup kitchen have never talked to me before. I turned around. It was a new girl.

She smiled at me. The shock was still running through my arm when our fingers touched. I smiled back. "You are the first one to ever talk to me."

"I'm new here. I volunteered to help the less forunate," she explained.

"That's very kind of you, miss."

"Please, call me Willa."

I held out my hand and she shook it firmly. "My name's Dell. Dell Philby. Please, call me Philby."

"Willa Angelo," her sweet voice rang through my ears like bells. I looked down at the bread in my hands.

"Thank you again for the bread, Willa," I waved and turned to walk away.

"See you tomorrow?" she called out. I looked over my shoulder. Her face was bright with curiosity, a faint smile pulling on her lips. I grinned.

"Of course. See you tommorow, Willa."

* * *

**Charlene POV**

"GET OUT OF MY STORE, YOU NEGRO!" there was a loud shout. I stopped walking. The people in the street paid no attention to it, and I frowned.

"I HAVE GOOD MONEY!" another voice rang out.

"OUT! OUT _NOW, _BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE, BOY!" the door swung open and a poor African American boy was shoved out, landing right in front of me. The door slammed shut. The boy groaned, rubbing his jaw, blood trailing down the side of his head. He only had torn up jeans, and a belt on, with a little pouch connected to it. He glared up at me.

"What are you looking at?" he hissed quietly. I crouched down and picked up his hat, handing it to him. He snatched it out of my hands and stood up.

"A thank you would be nice," I said. He glared at me.

"Why do you care?" he growled. I was intimidated, but I wasn't about to turn away.

"Because it is poliet," I said calmly. His face softened, just a little bit.

"Sorry, ma'am. Thank you."

"Did that man kick you out of the store?"

"Why do you have so many questions?" he hissed, obviously not used to anyone paying him any attention.

"Did he kick you out of the store?" I asked with more force.

"Yassum."

"Did you have money?"

"Yassum."

"Then why would he kick you out?"

The boy turned away from me. "Because I'm a Hobo Negro."

"Why do you call yourself that?"

"'Cause it's what I am, ma'am."

"Do other people call you that?"

He brushed off his hat and placed it back on his head. "Yassum. That an' other things, too. You are the most curios lady I have ever met. Why do you pay attention to me?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You are a rich white lady. I'm a stupid hobo black boy. No one pays attention to me."

I looked at him curiously. "Why not?"

"Because I'm a hobo. No one pays attention to hobos. Expecially black ones."

"That's not an answer."

"Sure it is."

"No, its not."

He looked at me. "You are quite different, ma'am."

"Am I, now?"

He nodded, wincing and pulling off his hat. It was bloodstained, and he closed his eye and blood dripped down it, too.

"Oh, you're bleeding!"

"Am I, now? I didn't realize!" he hissed, sarcasm dripping through his words.

"That's not how you treat those higher than you, boy!" I scolded.

"And to think I thought..." he trailed off.

"And to think you thought what?"

"I thought you were different."

"But I'm not?"

"No. You're just like others. Pretending to be concerned, then pointing out the fact you are higher than me. Of course I was wrong." He turned his back to him. "Good bye, ma'am."

"And where do you think you're going?" I asked.

He shrugged, his back to me. "I never truly know, do I? We aren't like _'those higher than'_ us, who know where they are going all the time." He shot a meaningful look at me. Great. Now I feel awful.

"But if you don't know where you're going, how do you know when you get there?" I asked.

He stopped walking, but didn't look at me. He was obviously thinking. "Well, that's the fun part, isn't it? Not knowing when you are there."

"Fun? Did you say being homeless is _fun_?"

He laughed, finally turning back to me. His face was lit up, not the same angry boy I met just minuets earlier. Now he seemed more lighthearted, mishchivious, and...youthful. Like a little boy, or a puppy, he shared that same sparkle in the eyes. "Not that being homeless is fun. I'm probably the only one who thinks this, but...I love the adventures."

I gasped. Now he has my attention! "Did you say adventures?"

He briskly walked back to me. "Yes! We go on so many adventures! The best feeling in the world? It has to be railriding!"

"Railriding?"

He nodded. "We climb up onto trains, sit in the cars or on the top (the tops my favorite) and just let the train move us! The wind blowing past your face harder than you have ever felt it! It's the best!" he chuckled. "But I'm probably the only one that feels that way. Everyone else is too sad."

"Do you guys go out of town?" I asked.

He stared at me, silent for a second. All I could hear was the faint beating of my heart at normal speed, and our breathes. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Do we go out of town? Do we go out of TOWN?!" he managed to choke between laughs. "That, ma'am, is a complete UNDERSTATEMENT!" He paused to lean over, clutching his stomach, and laugh some more. "I've been all around America!"

I gasped, clapping my hands together. "All around AMERICA?"

"Of course, ma'am," he said, finally done laughing. He panted, gasping for breath. "Us homeless folks never stop movin'. I'm on my way to the nearest rails now, actually. Why you wonderin', ma'am?"

"I've...never been outside of town," I blushed.

The boy gasped. "_Never? _Why?"

"My mother's...overprotective."

"Do you...do you wanna..."

"Do I wanna want?"

"Do you wanna join me?" he looked away, embarrased. I smiled.

"Are you asking me to run away, to join you in your adventures?" He nodded. "Then of course!"

He looked up at me happily. "Really, ma'am?"

I nodded eagerly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Finn POV**

"AWAKE! EVERYBODY up, NOW!"

I shot up quickly and looked around. My mother threw the sheet of my bed.

"We need to go!"

"Where are we going?"

"Out."

* * *

**Amanda POV**

"But Mrs. Nash-!"

"NO COMPLAINING, AMANDA! This house is being evicted, and if you want to take over my business-"

"I don't-"

"-then you must join me in kicking people out of their house!"

I groaned. "Fine. Who's house is this?"

"The Whitmans."

* * *

**Philby POV**

I entered my house. "Mother, I'm back from the soup kitchen. I brought bread."

My mother stepped to me and took the bread. "Thank you. How was the job interview, Dell?"

I sighed. "I'm trying to stay optimistic."

My mother kissed my head. "How about I try to make something nice out of this bread to make you feel better?"

"That would be great, thank you, Mother."

* * *

**Maybeck POV**

I was stomping ahead of the lady.

"Did you ever get my name? Did I ever get yours?" she called out from behind me. I kept my eyes ahead, glaring at nothing.

"I don't know."

"My name's Charlene Turner."

"Maybeck," I grumbled.

"You seem to change personalities very quickly, Maybeck," she pointed out.

"Look here, we got a genius!" I mumbled sarcastically.

"What was that?"

"Nothin'."

We both shut up, as I led her to the train station. I turned and kept walking.

"Maybeck, we're here!"

"You think I didn't see that?"

"Well then where do you think you're going?"

"We dun get on at the station, that's too suspectin'. We keep walkin', following the tracks."

"Then what?"

"Then when we hear the train, we wait."

"Then?"

"Then once we see the train, we start running and find a way to climb up."

"Then?"

"You ask too many questions. Then we wait."

"For?"

"Enough questions and follow me," I grumbled, stuffing my hands in my pockets and adjusting my hat.

"Would you like me to buy you a shirt?" she asked.

I stopped, but didn't turn to her. "What?"

"You don't have a shirt."

"People won' let me buy one."

"That's why I offered."

I stared ahead for a couple seconds, before letting my chin fall to my chest. "Jus' come on. Maybe later."

"I hear something!" Charlene yelled. I stopped, and she caught up to me. I looked around.

"There's a train coming. Get ready to run."

* * *

**Sorry that it's short. D:**

**Kay, bye.**


End file.
